


Target Practice

by miss_elizabeth



Category: Burn Notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_elizabeth/pseuds/miss_elizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang take on a case for Michael's brother's friend---things take an unexpected turn that no amount of military training could prepare them for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Target Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethfury](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfury/gifts).



> I don’t own, affiliate with or know anyone from the Burn Notice series,--if I did I’d be making out with Jeffrey Donovan right now. A big thanks to my amazing beta! Also, italicized text means it's coming over the walkie talkie, just so you know.
> 
> Last but not least, Happy Christmas to Bethfury--I hope you enjoy!

 

Sam wasn’t the kind of guy to beat around the bush---unless he was trying to get someone to do him a favor, but that was different.  When not on a mission with the team (which was rare, but hey, he could do reconnaissance work, down a beer and contemplate....usually), Sam would think about what he would include if he ever wrote a biography, or memoirs or something.  He wasn’t the most eloquent of men in the traditional sense, but he liked to think he had a way with words.  

He’d seen a lot of action (both military and otherwise),  and working with Michael and Fi--the work got more creative.  Given more room to flex his muscles (metaphorically speaking, of course) he’d be lying if he said he never had fun.  Putting the bad--sometimes downright evil people away, well there was nice feeling about it.  Not that he gets the warm fuzzies over this; common, Navy men don’t get like that.  There, of course, had been situations where they went in blind--where they had to help the bad guys to put the worse ones away.  It was never a nice mission, but hey, you’ve got to do what you got to do.  There were times when innocent people got involved--his friends even, there was no other option, no safe way out besides getting through to the end.  But even then there was a sense of a light at the end of the tunnel.  

However sitting in crap car, no music, no AC, no cold beer, in the middle of July in Miami--let's say the light was seeming remote, if that.

“Mikey, I’m not likin’ this,” he said into the ear piece, drinking whatever he had that now tasted of warm piss.  Hopefully it wasn’t.

“ _I know, but until there’s movement I need you there.  Craig said this stuff would have side affects--noticeable ones, either on them or within the building.  We need to know if anything happens._ ”

He knew it was important, the fact that he was here solidified that.  Nate had come to Mike with his friend Craig about it--Mike was always the over protective brother that didn’t like the idea of his little brother being involved with his somewhat shady dealings and lifestyle.  However, he owed it to him, or so he told Sam.  This Craig had been the one person in Nate’s life after Michael left, he had helped him (if you could call being beat up together helping), but more importantly he was there.  Some how this Craig had become this rocket scientist who unwittingly got himself involved with some shady big wigs.  After realizing his mistake he tried to get them reported, but nothing happened to them. Instead he came home to his sister beaten to a pulp.  

Craig was told that he was developing some sort of anti-virile shot for soldiers working in remote areas or something--the science of it confused Sam but he got the basic picture.  He started his work, documenting case studies and the like, when he noticed serious changes.  Craig had tried reporting it to his superiors, but nothing had happened.  His good friend and research partner, Louis, had contacted the World Health Organization office in Washington D.C., after he realized that it wasn’t simply their test subjects who where affected.  One of the cleaning staff had fallen down ill during his day job at a local cafe, the discoloration of his skin first being noted by co-workers, and a few hours later he was vomiting, seizing, foaming at the mouth.  He was rushed to the hospital, but not before the damage was done.  Another co-worker was found dead in her apartment the next morning.  After similar symptoms were recognized in other co-workers the hazmat team was called in to clean out the building.  Dr. Louis Prefortus had seen the news, and disturbed by the characteristics, had made the connections.  He placed a call into the WHO, and went on site to try and talk to the hazmat team.  Two days later he was found dead, apparently he fell in the shower and cracked his head.  Two days after that the morgue the bodies had been brought to was quarantined, said to have had an outbreak of some sort of virus that had laid dormant in the body of the original infectee. 

No specifics were given.

Nate convinced Craig to talk to Michael - something had to be done.  And that’s how Sam found himself in a hot un-air conditioned car at 4AM.  

Sighing, he took something out of the now warm cooler.  Looking at it he smiled, “Hey, Fi--thanks for the extra bottle--but it doesn’t matter SINCE IT’S WARM.” He turned the radio down for her no doubt loud, and warranted, remark, but he’s been in the damn car.... how long now?  For fuck’s sake, it was time to switch off.

Finding a pack of--soup nuts? “Jeeze, Mikey, how old are these?” Sam weighed his options between whatever it was that had no doubt gone bad in the cooler and the pack in his hand.  

Opening the pack he threw a few in his mouth and washed it down with his hopefully not-warm-piss-drink before radioing. “This is beyond the normal drink tab that you owe me here, Mikey,”  he said, coughing on....well, the congealed mess now going down his throat.

 “Son-of-a-bitch,” he mumbled to himself, coughing as the mess went  down his throat.

“ _Michael, shouldn’t Craig have made contact with us?  Something feels off,_ ” Fi’s said over the walkie.  She was right; Craig said he’d check in between 3 and 3:30AM.  

“ _I’ll be there within the hour--with refreshments, Fi’s going to take a poke around meanwhile, so be on alert, Sam.  I hope it’s nothing, but I’ll try Craig on his cell._ ” 

Sam nodded to no one in particular and wiped the sweat off his brow before attempting to reposition himself in a better manner to stay alert.  “You got it.”

“The guards checks outside every 30 minutes, starting by the east dock and moving back around.  Your best bet is to go right after they leave--they’re rather thorough, except for the dock themselves. I don’t think they’ve got sea legs,” Sam reported, chuckling to himself.  What a bunch of girls.  

“They’re packing too, nothing too big. Looks to be standard issue handguns, maybe a Glock--looks like they’ve extra rounds in the pockets from the swagger this one’s got.  Newbie, probably.”  

 _“Thanks, Sam.”_ Then silence.  It was a standard thing, silence but it could be unnerving.  

“ _Fi’s in place, approaching from the dock on the east side_ ,” Mike said, “ _I’m on my way Sam, be there in less than 5._ ”  The line went dead as Sam took out his binoculars, checking out the situation and the area Fi was approaching.  The guard had started his rounds and had just checked the docks, going maybe 10 feet onto them before getting out of the area.  All of them seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the area.  Something seemed off.

Maybe 10 minutes went by before he saw the petite form of Fiona moving across the area.  She used her flashlight to signal that she was going up--using the stairs in the back to head to the roof.  She’d be out of sight for a moment.  

After what seemed like forever another car approached his, lights off, to be sure he  grabbed the gun he had taped to the bottom of the driver seat.  Flashing the lights once, he put it away as a Mike-shaped figure approached the car.

“Hey Mikey,” he said, handing him a large bag. 

Opening it, Sam grinned. “Mikey, you’re the best.”  He smelled the grease of the burger, still slightly warm. 

“Where’s Fi?”

“Heading to the back and up the stairs--I’m assuming it means the windows they put in are finished?”  Michael simply nodded looking out at the darkness.  

“Didg yo-u geeta hould of Cr--aig?”  Sam asked mid-bite as Michael handed him a cold drink.  His eyes going wide, he took it gratefully, gulping it down.  “Did I mention that I love you, Mikey?” Sam looked up at Michael, ketchup falling off the burger and on to Sam’s shirt.

“No,” Michael replied, taking a hold of Sam’s binoculars.  

“I didn’t?  Well, I do,”  Sam clarified, taking another bite.

“No, well, no,” Michael said, looking at Sam for a moment before looking back at the building.  Fiona had appeared on the roof as he spoke, “but Craig never picked up."

Over the radio tuner they had used to listen in on the guards a weird noise was heard.  

  


“Mikey, you hear that?” Sam asked, looking at him before reaching over and turning it up.

  


_“Kevin--get your ass over to section 3!”_   There was something going on in the background, people yelling and loud crashes.

_“I’m almost done, calm do---”_

_“NOW.  We’ve got a situati---”_

_“Alright, I’m coming!”_

  
_  
_   


Kevin, they realized was the guard on patrol at the moment, and they watched as he sprinted towards the side entrance.  

“Hey Fi, you see anything?”  Michael asked, not liking the way this was sounding.

“Shit, Kevin get your ass in we nee----” the rest was drowned out by gunfire.

Fiona responded quick enough.  “Approaching the window now, no one in this room--going to the next---what the hell?”

“Fi...Fi...Fiona?!”  Michael yelled into the walkie, the panic which he had been trained to conceal obvious in his voice.

“I’m fine--there’s a mass of people, gunfire smoke--I can’t get a good look.  Hold on.”

Over the radio tuner they heard more gunfire, shots, yells, and noises that no words could possibly described before the screaming started.  It all occurred within 3 minutes, though it felt like a year.  Then there was silence, followed by deep breathing, moaning and groaning in the background.

“Dear lord...” It was Fiona’s voice.

“Fi---are yo--”

“I’m fine, for now.  But get over here now.  Bring both cars, we’ll need the explosives in your trunk, Sam.  They’re all---it’s too late.  We need to---oh god...” 

Getting back into the car, both turned on the ignition before speeding towards the building, pulling up to pick up Fiona, who was looking paler than ever.  Michael reached her first, and opening the door she looked towards him.

“Go,”  Fiona said simply, glancing nervously behind her as Sam had parked behind them and was opening the door to head to their car.

“What the hell is going on?”  Michael asked, not moving.  

“GO.  End of the parking lot---NOW!”  Fiona yelled, moving her leg to hit the gas, not realizing Sam was approaching.  

Sam watched as Michael’s car peeled out like a bat out of hell.

“Son-of-a-bitch---C'mon!” he yelled after them, running back to his car.  There was a noise behind him, towards the entrance of the building, and someone lumbered out as Sam started the car.  Pulling up, he lowered the window, the lights around the building not helping much.

Thinking it was a security guard Sam plastered on his best Tourist Smile and moved to talk to the man.  “Mornin’ sir, it seems I’ve got myself a little lo---”

Sam’s eyes went wide when the person placed their hands on the window.  Their eyes were hallow - the skin a pale greenish-yellow color.  He was wearing a lab coat, the embroidery on the jacket bearing the name of Dr. Craig Morris.  “Craig--it’s Sam, are you--just get in.” 

The order seemed to go over Craig's head for a moment, and he stared blankly at Sam.  Eventually he groaned, a noise that made Sam think the guy was about to throw up or something,  and then slowly got into the car. He left the door hanging open, staring blankly head, before Sam took the liberty of reaching over to close the door for him and then peeling out to follow Michael and Fiona.  Glancing towards the passenger seat, wondering what the hell was the matter with the guy,  he looked Craig over quickly, noting the thinning hair, and--was that blood on his coat?  

Sam pulled up behind Mike’s car, turning off the engine before looking over at Craig again.  Craig, still staring in a blank kid of way, looked back over at Sam in turn, his mouth hanging open.  Up close Sam could see patches of his skin was black, blue, green, his pupils unmoving--after a moment Sam smelled this ungodly stench, knowing it wasn’t the cooler (nothing had changed there), and after covertly smelling his shirt (it was July in Miami after all) he leaned forward slightly towards Craig and cringed.  He smelled like blood, death, chemicals, and rotten eggs.  

In the background Fiona was trying to explain to Michael what she saw. "No, they were all on top of him---it looked like a mob but they weren’t trying to disarm him or---they were biting him!  Michael, there was blood and limbs everywhere--by the time I realized it was Craig they were piled on top of it was too late--don’t give me that look!  Don’t you think I know how crazy I sound!?”

“Fi--all I’m saying and, Sam will back me up here, is that something else other than the living dead is occurring in that building.  Sam, back me up on this!” 

There was silence.  Silence did not occur when talking to Sam Axe.

Fiona and Michael headed to the car, Fiona approaching the passenger side, Michael the driver’s side.  “Sam, stop eating for one fuckin’ minute--” Fiona was cut off by what she saw.

“Eeeaatt...”  Craig (or whatever the hell this once Craig thing was) turned towards Fiona, moving to bite whatever was closest to his gaping jaw.  

“Oh, like hell!”  Sam grumbled, picking up his previously discarded gun and shooting the smelly guy in the neck.  Fiona moved aside and Sam hurried out of the car, moving towards the passenger side as he fired at its head through the windshield glass---just for good measure, of course.

“Got you, didn't I, you little sucker!” 

Once the creature stopped moving, and Sam had stopped firing at it (again, for good measure), there was stunned silence - the occasional sound of breaking glass coming from the building in the background.   

“I told you so,”  Fiona huffed, looking pointedly at Michael.

Sam and Michael nodded vaguely, the sounds of shattering glass becoming more frequent.   Eventually they were able to see more figures, slow-moving things that didn't look quite human, making their way out of the building, the sun slowly started to rise behind them.  

“So I was thinking...” Fiona started, the men watching the scene for a moment and completely tuning her out. It was something out of a movie, like Dawn of the Dead or something. They eventually snapped back to reality.  “...then, after the flames die down, we circle the building with the guns, taking down whatever we missed,” she had continued on, explaining her idea slowly and logically, taking out the semi automatic from the back of Michael’s car.

“Sounds....sounds like a plan.”  Michael nodded, going to help Fiona and get himself ready. 

Sam looked on in horror for a moment more.  “In all my years, I never thought I’d be living a horror film.”   The government’s training for SEAL’s was intense,  and at the time Sam didn’t think he’d need half of it--dealing with the undead was not included in this training. He finally came back to the real world, joining Michael while Fiona as they went about setting up a few small explosives.  

Always one to be proactive in a life or death situation, Sam went to the trunk of Michael’s car.  “Have an idea,” he announced, getting the attention of Michael and Fiona.  Pulling out the emergency chainsaw -  building protective forts, cracking into safes, cutting down the occasional tree, lumberjack impressions - the thing came in handy, he grinned to himself and slammed down the door of the trunk.

“So Michael, you drive, I’ll throw, ---” Fiona was cut off by the sight of Sam’s grin. 

Looking at her expression of disbelief, Sam smiled and shrugged.  “Works in the movies.”  He kicked out what was left of Craig and attached the chainsaw with belt to the passenger side seat, letting the thing hang out of the window like a pointed spoke on a chariot wheel.

Fiona was going to argue but Michael stepped in to get back to business.  “We’ll rendezvous towards the middle of the parking lot and start shootin’ practice.  We enter on the right side, you first, Fi and I will follow.”  It wasn’t really a question -- it was a statement.  Sam nodded, loading another gun and putting it in his belt for safe measure.  

Sam led the way with his zombie killing car of doom, flicking the chainsaw on with a broad grin. He flashed his blinkers to draw their attention to him and grinned, gunning down the main drive and he laughing to himself at he either chopped the creatures in half or ran them down with his car.  “You're goin' down!” 

He made his way to the rendezvous point, casually whistling to himself as he waited and watched for Michael and Fiona, turning on the windshield wipers to take care of a few random bits and pieces that had wound up on the window.

It happened so quick, the flames lit up the morning sky--looking like some sort of mini fireworks factory explosion.  Multiple blasts happened, people falling and mostly staying down, though a few got back up with bodies in flame and pieces of them hanging off to stumble around aimlessly.  Michael and Fiona looped back around and met Sam, who had gotten out of the car and was already already prepped, holding his Bor rifle.  Throwing Michael the M16 and handing Fiona the M2 Browning machine gun, they waited for the flames to die down enough to sort of highlight the on-coming creatures slowly marching their way.  Locked, loaded, they simply waited for the army of the dead to head their way, hearing the sirens of approaching rescue vehicles in the distance.

Michael turned to Sam with a smile on his face. “What do you think they’ll say this one is?”

Sam was silent for a moment before loudly cocking his gun. “I don’t know, but for me, it’s target practice,” he answered with a grin. 

The three opened fire in the early morning sunshine.

  
  
  



End file.
